Free Ron Base - Tree Callister 03 - Another Sanibel Sunset Detective by Ron Base

all.”
    She put her head back against the sofa, and the next thing Tree knew she was snoring gently.
    That’s how Freddie found her when she came in a few minutes later. “When did she get here?”
    “Not long ago,” Tree said. “She says she doesn’t want you taking over her business.”
    “That’s what she said?”
    “A number of times. But she’s pretty loaded.”
    “Well, we can’t let her drive home.”
    Freddie gently shook her. Vera smacked her lips loudly and sat up. When she saw Freddie she put on a bleary smile. “I’m drunk, Freddie. Sorry.”
    “We’re going to drive you home,” Freddie said.
    “No, I can drive all right,” Vera said.
    Freddie helped her to her feet. “It’s no problem. Tree and I have to go out, anyway. We’ll just drop you off. It’s better that way.”
    “You’re not a bad person, Freddie. You’re really not.”
    “Let’s go out to the car, Vera.”
    “This is kind of you,” Vera said. “But I can drive. Really, I can.” Vera collapsed against Freddie who caught her and made sure she didn’t fall to the floor.
    With Tree’s help, they got her outside. Vera’s Jaguar was on the lawn. She had left the driver’s side door open. Tree closed it and then helped Freddie put Vera into the back seat of the Mercedes.
    Freddie got behind the wheel and then Tree went to the Jag and climbed in. The key was still in the ignition. He started the motor, and the Jag rumbled contentedly as he backed it onto the roadway.
    Tree followed Freddie’s tail lights to Vera and Ray’s rambling one-story house at the Sanctuary, the island’s only gated community. Tree parked the Jag in the drive and watched as Freddie escorted a woozy-but-conscious Vera inside the house. Ten minutes later she was back.
    “I’m sorry about that,” Freddie said.
    “I don’t think she’s ever gotten over the fact her husband was in love with you,” Tree said.
    “Ray wasn’t in love with me,” Freddie said.
    “That’s what Vera thinks.”
    “Whatever it was, it wasn’t love.”
    ________
    Later, when they were in bed, Tree, unable to sleep, twisted around, trying to block out the lion’s roar.
    The lion’s roar ?
    He sat up on the camp cot, hearing it again. He got up and pushed back the canvas tent flap and stepped into a clearing lit by the glow of a camp fire. He was surprised to see Freddie seated by the fire close to a muscular, black-haired fellow with the rather cruelly-handsome face of a young Sean Connery. The two of them glanced up quickly as he approached—rather guiltily, Tree thought.
    “Did you hear the sound of that lion?” Tree said.
    “Let’s not talk about the lion,” Freddie said.
    “Why not?” said Tree. “Why can’t we talk about the lion?”
    “It’s a damn fine lion,” said the Sean Connery guy. “What’ll it be, Macomber? Shall I have the mess boy make you a gimlet?”
    “Macomber?” said Tree. “You mean Francis Macomber?”
    “You’re a coward,” Freddie said, poking at the fire with a stick, making quick, angry thrusts. “That’s why I slept with him.”
    “Who? Who did you sleep with?” Tree demanded.
    “Wilson here. The white hunter. After you ran from the lion. After you showed yourself to be a coward, I thought it was time I was with a real man.”
    “You’re not supposed to say that,” Tree protested. “I’m supposed to read it between the lines. The way Hemingway would have had it.”
    “It’s a damn fine lion,” Wilson said.
    “To hell with between the lines,” Freddie said. “I slept with him. You might as well know it. You’ve always been a coward. You’ve always tried to conceal it, first in the newspaper business and then by becoming a detective. You did everything you could to hide your fear. But now you’ve confronted the lion and run away, and everyone knows the truth about you.”
    The white hunter grinned and said, “Sure you won’t have a gimlet?”
    “A what?” Tree said.
    “A gimlet,” Freddie